How to Eat a Water Chestnut

I may have forgotten how to write. 

No question, I have forgotten how to write. 

And yet, this page is still here. 

I thought of you today, dear blog, while talking to myself and mentally chronicling the process of eating a water chestnut for an imaginary audience. A singhara. Terrible in puri form, but so yummy straight out of the water. 

A fruit that resembles a minotaur so closely, it could be its closest genome equivalent. (And this moment is when, ladies and gentlemen, my geneticist progenitors disowned me). 

First, cut off the two horns. Then the back of the head, and slowly peel the top off like a helmet. Pop the white rounded triangle in your mouth. Think about the joy of being alive. 

Somehow, the green ones have been much sweeter than the purples. Who'd have thought. Yet another mystery of the universe. 

A thousand words..

Upon closer inspection, I can see that my lobster looks more like an oyster-lobster hybrid trying to breakdance. But toilet Google?

Procrastination - Part N OR the Prodigal Blogger Returns

Things I've done today in lieu of homework:

-3 loads of laundry
-groceries (a few days early)
-made my bed (on a Friday, even though I'm expecting 0 guests! A first!)
-cooked
-mailed long overdue things
-recycled
-vacuumed my car
-cleaned my apartment
-fulfilled my annual average posts on facebook
-played the ukulele
-actual work
-wished my sibling happy sibling day.
-dropped off my old checkbooks (from the beginning of time) at the bank so they could shred them.

Oh look - and I posted something on my long forgotten blog! 

What a productive day!

The 'C' food diet

Since health has been rediscovered as the new wealth (although eating healthy seems to be primarily reserved for people wealthy enough to afford the expensive organic ingredients), I keep hearing about all kinds of diets - low fat, high protein, paleo, stone age, neanderthal etc etc. I've decided it was time I formally announced my own favorite.

Introducing, the 'C' food diet. Allowed foods include:
-Chocolate
-Cake
-Chips
-Cheese
-Cookies

This is most effective when shared with people verbally. 

Sea of Poppies

I finally finished reading Amitav Ghosh's 'Sea of Poppies' - a thick, impressive looking book that had been sitting on my bookshelf for a while now, gifted to me by my parents a couple of years ago. It took me 2 years to start reading the book, and a good 10 months to finish it. Part of the fault was mine - I'm learning how to read again.

I usually like english books by Indian authors - my own roots help me connect with things they are trying to say, and catch subtle references or understand their analysis of facts I completely took for granted. I also like historical fiction. In that regard, this book didn't disappoint. It is set in the 1830s in northern India, primarily in Ghazipur and Calcutta, during a time when the country is overrun by the British and the opium trade. The story follows the lives of several people - villagers, colonials, middle men, ship-hands  - who all find themselves on a ship to the Mauritius islands.

Until I read this book, I knew little about India's history with opium, especially centered in a place like Ghazipur, so close to home. Last year I met a girl from the island of Reunion who had told me a little about how her ancestors ended up there, and it was probably that conversation with her that gave this story so much depth - it was real, it happened, and this history is still very much a part of the people who descended from those early settlers near Africa, so far away from their homeland.

It all felt a little unreal though - learning about farmers being forced to give up growing food in their fields, and instead filling it with poppies to feed to the hungry opium factories which gave the British their wealth; learning about the ugly reach of the caste system which so divided the country amongst its own people; the deals the colonial rulers made with the local rulers, and how the river was the main highway for transportation during those days.

Then again, it's not a book I'll probably go back and read again - all the sailor-speak and British-hindi drove me nuts, and in his effort to make the book as authentic as possible by taking into account the different accents people speak in, Mr. Ghosh made it almost unreadable in many places.

Then again again - there were some truly novel characters I came across - the half-chinese/half Parsee drug addict named Ah-Fatt (hehe), a french girl who is more Indian than French, and a resourceful grey-eyed village woman named Deeti. My one favorite part of the book was the scene where Kalua is being whipped for a crime, and the next few seconds of how he deals with the upcoming blows were simply magical. Everything a book should be - and something that only the most talented of movie directors could truly capture to relate on screen.

Apparently, this was the first in a trilogy. I might pick up the other two, but only if the author makes his sailors and sahibs shut up for once.

Flu Blues

Email to my mother:

A frog has kidnapped my voice, and now I sound like the son you never had. 

Voluntary Confinement

Here I am, yet again, in the library on a Saturday. Armed with snacks and coffee and water and advil and glasses and a sweatshirt, with convenient access to vending machines and a restroom, easy internet and power source for my computer. Determined to force my brain to focus on a dull technical subject, determined to break the barriers my brain has put up around itself to protect itself from that beast Knowledge.

Learning to read... again

When did I forget how to read, stay focused on, and enjoy a book? Checked one out from the library yesterday, started reading it today. Done with 6 pages out of 509. Maybe the pressure of tracking my progress 'publicly' will help me make progress.

Update (Oct 26): Nope, no luck. Did finish reading another shorter book, but that was during the course of denial and escape from other major problems.

The importance of being a potato

Am finding myself learning a bit about the Earth's gravity model these days. One fun simulation on the web: http://www.hydrometronics.com/images/turn7-large.gif

I'm pretty sure there's a potato out there that EXACTLY represents the shape and/or gravity of the Earth.

A claim no human being can make.

Bits and bytes

Michael Feinstein, new conductor for the Pasadena Pops Orchestra, wowed JPL today with his Frank Sinatra like performance, funny one-liners, and interesting song selections.

What struck me about him was his very strong performance - constant engagement with the audience - he smiled and he smiled and hardly looked at the keys on the piano he was playing. Some musicians focus on their instrument or forget the people for a while, but Feinstein had eyes only for the audience.

Towards the end, he said that one of his goals was to bring back the communal experience that music nowadays had started to move away from...Interesting. Sounds noble anyway.

On the way home, a radiolab podcast talked about how Beethoven's symphonies actually are supposed to play a lot faster based on the metronome markings he made in his notes.

And at lunch today, I gleefully related a story to others about how the iron content of spinach had been misreported for decades due to a decimal error in transcription. What a great story - except I found out later that it wasn't true. Apparently, there is a book out there called 'The Half Life of Facts'. Maybe it's time to read it.

In going with the spirit of entrepreneurship, I think there should be a way to sort truth from reality.

Climbing up 126 steps daily to get to my office is working out well I think. As long as no other humans hear me sound like a heaving elephant everytime I emerge from the stairwell.

These vagabond shoes..

It's been a while since I traveled - or at least that's what it feels like, since I haven't really documented any of the travels I have had. They may as well as not have happened, given the impermanence of whatever the neural dendrons decide to latch on to. I think mine have turned hippie - roaming without purpose, floating in whatever fluid the brain is filled with (the exact neuron with that information is MIA - I'll remember whenever that electrical pulse reaches the part of my brain responsible for trying to remember.

There have been some trips - some to San Francisco (class, and marathon), Florida (Kristen's wedding, and Harry Potter), and of course, the usual ones to Lucknow. Uncharacteristically (at least, uncharacteristically for what my latest characteristics have been like), I planned a trip to New York to see Aditi again, and also visit Papa in Syracuse. This time, I did get the airport right, unlike the last time, not that it mattered, since I landed smack in the middle of NY rush hour, quite literally, as the shuttle from the La Guardia to Penn Station waded through what seemed like LA traffic on steroids, the non-stimulant variety - since the whole place resembled a parking lot, and it took the frantic-looking driver's very Delhi-like driving skills to get me to the station in an hour.

NY day 1 was hot - saw the new world trade center tower, and times square, and a show at night called Fuerza Bruta which had performers running sideways on walls, swimming overhead, and running through cardboard feathery walls. The other time was spent in cabs, and trains. The highlight of NY day 2 was riding a bike through Central Park before heading to Syracuse, the flight for which was delayed (4 different times, one of the them being a change to an earlier time). The plane was so small, that the airport gate devoted to the airplane was really just an exit door with a handwritten 'Gate 11x' over it. On the flight, with all the bumps through the aerial corridors, I was pretty sure I'd go straight down and straight up.

Syracuse is beautiful. Too peaceful for a long stay, but probably very therapeutic for certain get-aways. Cazinovia had an outdoor modern-art sculpture museum that included a secret garden, a bookshelf with real and fake books, a real tree with cubic wooden blocks for leaves, and a natural barcode made with trees.

The trip was almost perfect, but just as I was leaving, I didn't want to. It's probably a new definition of the inertia of rest phenomena. It was hard to say goodbye to Papa.

I think I agree with Frank Sinatra, but not in the way he meant.
"These vagabond shoes
They are longing to stray.."

Serendipity

Very few things beat discovering a handful of forgotten dollar bills in the pocket of an an old pair of jeans. Automatic junk food dispenser - here I come!

Swork

Recently, I found out that there were services/companies/websites (whatever you want to call them) out there that are hard to believe. For example:

Beeminder - a goal setting website which will charge you money if you don't meet your goals/fall behind.

Snuznluz - a thinkgeek.com alarm clock that will donate money to the charity you hate if you snooze

I'll add to the list as I find more...

Meanwhile, some other great ideas (in my opinion):
-an alarm clock that is connected to your bed, which will tilt to throw you off (or gently roll you onto the ground) if you don't wake up on time.
-gym treadmills/other exercise machines hooked up to video games or an exercise bike hooked to a fan that works only when you do..
-a whole gym setup to power a small city or a building, or a gym that powers itself with human exercise
-a kitchen sink that starts screaming when there are too many dirty dishes in it

More to come...

Oh - I think I'm supposed to be working..

Thought Freeways

Over the last few months, I have toyed several times with ideas of creating a new blog - a new blog for space enthusiasts, or one for awesome outdoor adventures, a help blog for people like me struggling to understand simple concepts that everyone pretends to understand but really doesn't - and somehow that doesn't pan out. Ever. Or in Taylor Swift's words, 'Like, Ever.'

And I come back here, every single time. This blog is home. It's familiar, it's comfortable, it's personal. Well, almost. The beauty of being so randomly public and so unreliably infrequent with posts is that nobody is really following. It's a very free float-like feeling in cyberspace.

Yesterday's trip to the beach was long due. I'm still sore from doing nothing other than being pummeled by the waves, and lying in the sun to try to even out the two-toned tan the last marathon training left on my legs. Two showers and several changes of clothes later, I think I may still find a grain of sand in my ear when I'm not looking.

The beach trip was cut short, sadly, by tabla class. Although the fun part was having to jump on five different freeways (1 to the 10 to the 110 to the 5 to the 2) in order to get there - just barely - on time. My very own mini-tour of LA.

Maybe this blog is like a big city. Plenty of room for all kinds of freeways of thought.

The Final Night OR Night before Finals

 Bryan:  hello. how's the day going?

 me:  hello. day is going quickly. wherever it is trying to go - it is in a hurry

 Bryan:  very true. it's already getting dark outside!

  me:  i think it is running off to japan

japan must be a funner place

 Bryan:  only during non-radioactive waste times

well, the i guess the sun is still high in hawaii

 me:  shining down on thousands of limping marathonions

 Bryan:  hehe, *onions

 me:  of course. deep deep down, we are all merely onions

Midterm minus 2 hours

My heart (or something in the thoracic cavity) feels like it is trying to compete with the expanding universe. Or what the universe must've felt like the few minutes before the Big Bang.

If that happens, my examination answer sheet will be a gory mess. The janitors at work will not be happy. 

Parking Pains

'You think this location is fine? I don't want a parking ticket.'

'Fine - one way or the other'.

'Hm?'

'The difference of an article. Either fine, or a fine.'

Midterm week foods

Maggi
Oatmeal+Soymilk (Silk)
Corner Bakery Tomato and Mozzarella Sandwich (where the waiter almost said 'enjoy your honeymoon!' instead of 'enjoy your food!'
Radhika Bistro leftovers of Paneer Tikka Masala and Korma and Goat cheese samosas
White Mocha Starbucks Coffee
Blueberries (FULL of anti-oxidants)
Dirty brand Jalapeno heat chips
Waffles
Trader Joe's Milk Chocolate
Maggi
Maggic
Maggi

Irreversible Pauses

I went to a wake last night for a co-worker who died at an unacceptably young age.

He was an outstanding actor and singer as well. The video of one of his songs, that he sang at somebody's retirement party was played for the audience - a funny rendition of Don McLean's 'American Pie'. As the song completed, someone said 'you can stop it now' to the person sitting closest to the screen. She hit the pause button, and I saw his frame leaning on his guitar freeze on screen.

And I knew that the video wasn't done yet - that there had to be more. And yet, isn't that what death at an early age is like? You know there's more to a life, but the power goes out, the tape gets stuck, and there's nothing you can do. And you keep wondering how the video would've ended.

Who said?

...that you could only have one post per day?
...that your posts had to make any sense at all?
...that classical dynamics is useful in any shape or form?

I'm sure someone did, but there have to be better things in the world to quote people on.

Speaking of quotes, I think my favorite for the day was: "He gets annoyed when others talk whilst he's interrupting" - source - 'The Little Book of One Liners' sitting on my bookshelf that I picked from a Big Bazaar during my last trip to Bombay (Mumbai still doesn't just roll off the tongue - we're just creatures of habit - is my excuse).

A hike to a haunted mansion is on the agenda for tomorrow. Plus lots of staring at homework problems and blank pages and unanswered questions on class forums. If there's time, maybe I'll be able to review my notes and determine how to keep Euler, Lagrange, Hamilton, Goldstein, Greenwood et al straight.

I did learn a new fun word the other day - Brachistochrone. Apparently, the word comes from Greek brachistos meaning 'shortest' and chrone, meaning, of course, time. The word refers to the famous 'roller coaster problem' in which a path of fastest descent has to be determined from one point to the other.

Who said grad level aerospace classes only introduced students to knowledge, equations, and sleepless nights?